we're better than this
by SlntLullaby
Summary: a random drabble-like thing about joy and patricia's friendship, i don't even know. / ((it didn't used to be like this. they didn't used to have to search deep within themselves just to pull out one short sentence laced with nothing but bullshit so that they could have a normal conversation.))


**a/n**: Wow, I wish I even knew what the hell this is. I didn't even mean to start writing this, I actually started out writing a different story consisting of the ever so lovey House of Anubis and the end of the world. But then, I really don't even know, my brain just switched over to this because I was for some reason thinking about how Joy and Patricia really were hardly like best friends by the end of the third season, I don't know, and so I guess I just wrote a random drabble-like thing that really doesn't even makes sense. And sucks. But eh, I really don't even care, I post everything I write nowadays, even if I absolutely hate it... like this. But really, when do I _ever _like anything that I've written?

Also, angst angst angst because what the fuck else do I write nowadays?

**title**: we're better than this

**rating**: i'm gonna say k+ because it's really not that bad, there's only like two curses in it. (also, i apologize for the curse above, oops?)

**pov**: third

**pairing**: really n/a, it's patricia/joy friendship (or lack thereof), nothing more

* * *

It didn't used to be like this.

They didn't used to have to search deep within themselves just to pull out one short sentence laced with nothing but bullshit so that they could have a normal conversation.

In the past, they could just merely glance at each other and break out in hysterics.

But now, all the laughs are forced, and its so awfully easy to tell.

They'd both like to blame it - this depressing, uncomfortable silence that they've managed to fall into - on a number of things.

On new, distracting people arriving, on the hectic routine of their senior year, on boys stealing their hearts and undivided attention, on the almost unreal mysteries and Sibuna.

But it's really not any single one of those.

They both want to be able to state some solid, cemented reason as to why they can't seem to connect as they once did.

The fact of it all is that people _change_, and even if they were best friends for years and years, they just simply have nothing to say to each other anymore.

It's _sad_, and it makes the both of them feel downright rotten and sick with the guilt and regret gnawing at their consciousness.

They're not bad people, neither of them.

They just grew apart as they got older, and things became different.

Because just as juice boxes had become alcohol, and high had become a term that meant something completely and utterly different from something extremely tall, and yucky boy cooties had become sex, the two best friends had become almost total strangers.

Joy Mercer and Patricia Williamson.

Two years prior, had you said those two names together to _anyone_, their minds would automatically think: Oh _them_, the dynamic duo, always inseparable.

Back then, Patricia had become obsessed and crazy with Joy's disappearance, stopping at nothing to find her best friend, her other half.

These days, Patricia isn't sure she would be so very concerned if it had happened now.

And Joy, who used to run to Patricia with every bit of new information about her life, nowadays finds herself confessing things instead to Mara or Willow.

Sometimes, the two of them will discover themselves in a room alone together, all awkward and quiet.

And one of them will say something like, "Uh, hey. It feels like we haven't talked in forever!"

And they'll both think, _Because we haven't._

And the other will reply with, "Yeah... _yeah._ What's up?"

And they'll try and catch up, piecing together the moments they'd failed to have been informed about, but then someone, either Eddie or Jerome, will swoop in and capture the attention of their respective girlfriend.

And that's that.

Sometimes, Joy flips through her old diaries, finding entries with _Patricia_ inked throughout the pages, recalling their amusing and lively adventures.

Sometimes, Patricia flops down onto her bed, on her stomach, and when she glances up, her eyes are met with an endless array of pictures on her wall with a much younger Joy and her baring their sparkling teeth for the camera.

And they both feel a pang of _something _in their heart each time, both missing the other.

But they won't do anything about it. They won't go up to the other and say softly, "Hey, I... I miss you."

Patricia, she has too much pride.

Joy, she's too sick of doing everything first.

But they slowly realize that they're not necessarily missing the other.

They're missing the ghost of their best friend.

The Joy that Patricia knows and misses is quiet by nature, doesn't care a thing about fashion, and keeps her true feelings hidden from everyone except Patricia, but fights _hard _against what she knows isn't right.

The Patricia that Joy knows and misses spills out all of her innermost feelings and secrets to Joy late at night in their shared room, hates Americans, and swears she's never going to fall in love, especially not with some obnoxious guy that bothers her to no end.

Neither of them are those people anymore.

They've shed their old skeletons and grew newly guarded bones around themselves.

Ones that neither girl is aware of what hides underneath the other's.

It's stupid and it's petty and it's downright _foolish _for the two of them to keep tiptoeing around each other like they do.

But they can't seem to break the strain between them.

They both wish they could just _blow up _at each other, explode with some kind of fire and anger, screaming hateful words.

Just so that they can feel less remorse for their friendship fizzing out for no good reason at all.

Their companionship has reached its termination.

They'll avoid each other, opting to lace their fingers with their boyfriend's and pull them the other way, and then feel sheepish when they next come in contact.

And when they graduate, they'll part ways, and they won't talk.

They'll scroll through their contact list on their phone to find a number, passing the other's name in the process, but they won't call or text.

When Patricia gets married to Eddie, she'll invite Joy to the wedding and Joy will invite Patricia to her marriage to Jerome, and they'll both say to each other, "Wow, you look beautiful." And they'll smile as they watch the other walk down the aisle, and exchange vows, and they'll laugh as they dance and drink at the reception. But the entire night, they'll feel that _empty_ spot, that best friend sized hole that was never filled, and when they get home and slip off their heels, a few tears will fall.

They won't speak again until they run into each other randomly one day, and when they do, they won't say much, they'll just talk about their lives thus far.

That unspoken brokenness will float between them though, and they'll part ways when it becomes too much.

When they have their first children, they'll feel a touch of woe as they remember how it was supposed to be when they had kids; they'd _planned_ when they were thirteen that it would be Aunt Joy and Aunt Patricia.

And one day Joy decides she's going to call up Patricia and say, "Hey Trix, it's been too long. We should hang out, I miss you."

But Patricia doesn't answer the phone because she's handling her three kids and childish husband.

But later, she'll see _Missed Call From: Joy_ and she'll feel bad, but just as she goes to call her back, Eddie will walk into their bedroom, wrap his arms around her waist and kiss her neck. And she'll never get to that phone call.

Joy will forget about it and go back to her own family.

And when their kids look at their old photo albums and point to the other, asking who that is, they'll lie through their teeth and say, "Oh, I don't remember her name."

And they might think to themselves then, _I'm a shit person_.

And they might then think, _God, I just fucking wish things could've turned out differently. _

They'll yearn to go back in time so they could mend their broken friendship.

But it'll be too late.

They might be okay, and they might be happy, but something will always be _off_, and will weigh them down with contrition.

They'll wonder where their friendship went sour and lousy.

They'll know that they won't be able to find a reason, no matter how deep they dig.

Because as the seasons change, so did they.


End file.
